


Dragon-Hearted Girl

by MidwesternDuchess



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Brother/Sister - Freeform, Gen, Kamui's missing "what the actual fuck" conversation, Strictly Fraternal, drawing on lore from other Fire Emblem games, spoilers abound!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 22:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6772201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidwesternDuchess/pseuds/MidwesternDuchess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The path I walk lights up in flames." -R. Karim</p><p> </p><p>
  <i>(Brothers become strangers and princesses become dragons. Happiness is a thing of legend.)</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dragon-Hearted Girl

"You knew." It is not a question.

Marx scoffs lowly under his breath, giving the speaker his back as he drops his gaze to his great oak desk, overcrowded with documents, tomes, and maps.

"I know a great many things, Kamui," he remarks stiffly. His eyes find the outline of a planned attack on a Hoshido village and guilt burns in his gut—ugly and hot. "You are going to have to be more specific."

He can feel her answering glare burning against the back of his neck—her eyes alight with crimson fire.

"Do not patronize me, Brother." He grits his teeth at the poisonous twist she gives the title. Kamui always did have a way of fashioning words into weapons. He blames the trait wholeheartedly on Leon. "I am not quite as little as you may think."

Marx turns then, drawing himself up to full height as he stares down at the girl. Her white hair is windswept and wild from their ride back from the battle, and he notices the black ribbon she wears hangs rumpled and limp down to her neck. Something shines on her porcelain face, and he realizes tear tracks mar her cheeks—quick-dried by the wind, leaving nothing behind but paths that look like scars leading from her ruby-red gaze to the edge of her jaw.

"You _knew,"_ she says again, words filled with a willfulness he hesitates to associate with his demure, kindhearted sister.

 _Hoshido has changed her,_ he realizes. But even as he forms the thought, he knows it to be a lie. Hoshido did not change Kamui. _Kamui_ changed Kamui. A sort of personal metamorphosis that began the moment she stepped foot outside her tower. But instead of leaving a lovely butterfly behind, the Nohiran Princess has been born again as a dragon. Fierce and determined and not the sort of person who is going to leave his study with anything less than the absolute truth.

Even if she has to burn it out of him.

"Knew what, dear sister?" he asks, lifting a questioning brow. He wonders if she will say it herself. The old Kamui would not have—of that he is certain. The little princess he had visited so many times in that old tower would have never cornered him in his study like this—would have never demanded anything of him in such a harsh tone.

But that Kamui is no longer. All that is left is a girl who stands astride two warring countries that she both calls home, armed with a sword in her hand and a desperation in her heart.

The little princess— _little dragon,_ Marx muses with a sardonic twist of his lips—does not disappoint.

"You knew we were not related by blood." He can hear the hurt in her accusation, no matter how she tries to mask it with venom. Her words bleed with fifteen years of loss and loneliness.

He inclines his head, circlet gleaming like raw obsidian in the flickering light.

"I did," he confesses, because no matter what form she takes—princess or dragon or Hoshidan—she is and always will be Kamui, his little sister.

She staggers under his words as if they had been made of steel, blood-red eyes growing wide as a pale hand flutters up to rest over her heart, mouth falling open in surprise.

He folds his arms stiffly behind his back so he will not be tempted to comfort her. He wonders vaguely if she would draw her blade against him, should he attempt.

Her distress lasts only a second before she is narrowing her eyes and setting her jaw. Despair is wasted on Kamui, it seems. She is a creature of action—a whirlwind earnestly seeking answers and adventure. There is no place in her schedule for mourning.

Even when it is her own funeral.

"I see." Her words tremble, but Marx commends her swift recovery. "Did you…plan to tell me? Ever?" She surveys him with those arresting crimson eyes, and the crown prince has been in enough battles to know when he is being assessed as an enemy.

Still, he maintains his honesty. "No," he tells her. "Not unless Father decreed it."

This, at least, does not seem to catch her so off guard. She simply nods, though Marx notes the distinctly displeased set to her jaw.

"Naturally." The word falls from stiff lips. She stares at him a moment longer before she spins on her heel, cape swirling at her heels as she strides away from him to face the great window that overlooks the castle grounds.

Marx tracks her across the room, waiting for her to speak. He spies the pouch on her belt that she had returned with. _A Dragonstone._ The Crown Prince recalls old images of dragons he had seen in tomes and paintings, trying to liken his sister to the fearsome beasts.

"I once read about a continent far from here called Magvel," she murmurs quietly, tucking snowy locks of hair behind a pointed ear. Marx frowns at the sudden shift in conversation—were they not discussing her lineage?—but does not protest.

"I am aware," he replies, moving to stand farther to the left to the girl in an attempt to catch a glimpse of her expression. "It is where the fabled War of the Stones took place centuries ago."

She ignores him, wrapping her arms around herself. A brittle breeze blows in, ruffling her hair and toying with the ends of her cape. His eyes are drawn to the dancing blue fabric, and he spies a bloodstain smeared across it.

"There was a girl who is said to have lived there," she goes on. "A Manakete named Myrrh. She and her father were the only ones of their kind left, and even he soon passed." Another wind blows in, and Marx watches as she holds herself tighter against the cold. He wants to close the window, but is oddly rooted to the spot, waiting to hear his sister's tale.

"So she spent an eternity alone in the Darkling Woods, standing guard over the corpse of the Demon King." He dislikes her tone—an empty, lifeless sort of cadence. "The stories say Darkling Woods is the most miserable place imaginable. Yet she remained there."

She turns to look at him then, and she looks small and vulnerable and so like the child Marx had first met those many years ago in the North Tower. A barefooted princess with fear in her eyes, hiding from him behind her bedpost. Marx feels his ironclad heart waver.

"Could you imagine such a fate?" Her voice is a whisper of silver and steel.

He clears his throat. "Duty will drive people to do many unthinkable things," he replies.

She scoffs quietly, shaking her head and looking back out the window.

"True words, Brother." Again, she uses the fraternal title as a barb, and Marx feels it deeply. "Unthinkable things—perhaps even lying to a girl you claimed to love—"

His expression darkens. _"Kamui."_

She ignores him, continuing on like he had not spoken. "—for her entire life? Lying to a _child?"_ She turns then, eyes alight with anger and accusation. "I knew you hated Hoshido, Brother. But I did not know you hated _me."_

"I do not hate you, Kamui," Marx all but growls, his voice a low rumble in his chest as he glares at the girl. Too often he is accused of casting his family aside in favor of pursuing some other princely duty that requires his attention. He refuses to take such insults from the sister he all but _raised._ Garon never showed his face in Kamui's room, but Marx made it a point to stop by her tower every single day.

Who had brought her books from the library? Who had regaled her with legends of the Shadow Dragon and the Hero of Blue Flames? Who had pleaded with King Garon to at least let her move about the castle properly? Who had gifted her with her first sword? Who had listened to her chatter endlessly about her dreams?

"I never told you because it never mattered," Marx tells her firmly, anger still simmering low in his voice. "Of course I knew we were not related—I was there the day you were brought to the castle, my father's blade coated with the blood of _your_ father." Kamui gasps at his words, eyes going wide, but Marx keeps speaking, unable to stop the flood of words.

"What reason did I have to tell you?" he demands, dully aware his voice has risen to a near-shout but unable to reign himself in. "You were lost and alone, Kamui! From the moment you arrived in Nohr you were an outsider. Revealing your lineage would have only made matters worse!"

He draws in a breath, swallowing hard and forcing composure upon himself. He has said his piece. It is up to Kamui to decide how they will proceed.

His sister stares up at him, expression closed-off and unreadable. An emotional shield she has perfected from her days alone in her tower.

He arches a golden brow as the silence draws on. "Well? Have you anything to say?"

She lifts her chin at the provocation, eyes flashing like rubies in the candlelight.

"After the War of the Stones, Myrrh returned to Darkling Woods," she explains, her voice steady and strong. She holds his gaze without flinching. "Though she made many friends during her time fighting alongside King Ephraim's army, she knew her place was not at his side, but alone in the Woods."

Marx's heart cuts all ties with his chest and leaps into his throat—its beat reverberating painfully in his ears.

"Kamui…" he beings, voice riddled with uncertainty.

"Duty will drive people to do many unthinkable things," she reminds him, and the ice in her tone cuts him to the quick. "I love you dearly, Brother. Of course I do. But Nohr is not my home, and you are not my blood." The wind picks up once more, tousling her hair and tugging the ribbon that clung to her neck to the floor.

"Hoshido is where I belong, and I will take up their cause. My _family's_ cause. Garon has now claimed both of my parents. I will not stand idle while he destroys the rest of my family." Her tone brooks no argument, and she stares him down fiercely, awaiting his response.

He finds his gaze drawn to the ribbon on the floor—the first of many gifts he brought her during her time in the North Tower. He had originally purchased it for Camilla, but upon seeing Kamui gazing at the simple strip of silk with an awed expression, he had changed his mind.

Camilla had plenty of trinkets and accessories already.

So he had tied it sloppily in her winter-white locks, wincing at the lopsided bow that his efforts yielded. He offered to send up Camilla to fix it, but Kamui had simply treated him to a laugh that sounded like a tinkling of bells, taking hold of his arm in both of her impossibly small hands and positively beaming up at him.

"What of our family?" he asks her quietly, finally raising his gaze. He wonders if she is at all affected by the memories the ribbon holds. "Fifteen years you have called Nohr your home, yet you renounce us the first chance you get?"

"Garon murdered my father!" she cries, properly riled now. She flings her arms wide, silver armor glinting in the light. "Nohr was never intended to be my home, Marx! The only reason I was brought here at all is because Garon wanted to use me as leverage against my _true_ family!"

She moves then—his battle instincts have him reaching blindly for his blade before he knows quite what he is doing—but she does not notice the action as she sweeps past him, cape snapping at her heels. She steps directly over the ribbon, and he wonders if the act was intentional.

Still, Marx makes no move to stop her. He could have with hardly any effort—he outsizes her easily, and her swordplay will never trump his should it come to blows. But he simply watches her stride across his study, hands fisted tightly at her sides, resentment and anger and sadness and pain rolling off of her in waves.

If this is goodbye, he cannot leave it like this. He will perish beneath the weight of fifteen years of fond memories if he does nothing.

"You forget the alternate telling of Myrrh's story," he calls to her, watching as she still her movements. Against her better judgment, she turns, surveying him suspiciously over her shoulder.

"What alternate telling?" she asks, tone guarded, eyes narrowed.

He stoops to pick the ribbon off the floor, clenching it tightly in his fist before he rises once again to his full height. Kamui's eyes snap to the accessory, and he watches as her hand springs up to touch her hair where it usually rests, fingers shifting through her pale locks, only just realizing her loss.

Forcing a hard swallow, she drops her hand. "What alternate telling?" she prompts, voice softer than it had been a moment before.

"Saleh, Myrrh's close friend and guardian, entreated the girl to leave the misery of Darkling Woods and join him in the mountain village of Caer Pelyn," Marx recites. Kamui is not the only student of history in this castle. "She resisted at first, claiming her duty bound her to the Woods. But he insisted and insisted, and eventually she relented."

Kamui refuses to face him properly, still regarding him coolly over her shoulder, but he can tell he has piqued her interest.

"She was hailed by the villagers as the Great Dragon, slayer of the Demon King. A title that brought her much discomfort," Marx goes on. He lowers his eyes to the ribbon in his hand, running a thumb across it. "She longed to leave, but Saleh assured her the attention would pass." He looks to her once more. "His words proved true, venerable Sage as he was. In time, people came to see her as just another girl—plain and simple." He sees an emotion spark in his sister's eye. "According to legend, she was happy and well-loved."

For one wild moment, he thinks he has succeeded. Kamui shifts her weight as if to turn and face him, before she stills her movements and shakes her head.

"I love you, Brother," she tells him softly. "I am sorry it has to be this way."

"It does not have to be," he argues quietly.

A small, sad smile grace her features, and in that moment, he sees not the eyes of his young sister, but the eyes of an old, grieved dragon—eyes that have seen a thousand tragedies, and knew they are doomed to see a thousand more.

"There is no Caer Pelyn for us, Marx," she murmurs. "There is only Nohr and Hoshido. And I have made my choice."

He watches her leave, slightly surprised when great, silver wings do not sprout from her back. Her white hair falls in curls down her back, and he looks on instinct for the flash of black woven between her locks, before he remembers the ribbon is not in her hair, but clutched in his hand.

**Author's Note:**

> _Posting this at 3AM because what's self-control?_
> 
> Wowee do I love me some Fire Emblem.
> 
> So, yeah. I always thought it a little strange that Kamui never pulled someone aside like, “yeah so like what the actual fuck? none of you cared to tell me about any of this? really?” And maybe Leon and Elise didn’t know, but I’m 100% positive Marx and maybe Camilla were in on that shit.
> 
> Also I used the original names just because I personally really dislike the name Xander.
> 
> And of course I had to mix in lore from my favorite FE game of all time (and the one with more incest-y vibes than If/Fates if you can believe it.) Myrrh was always a really sad, tragic character I thought, and I liked the idea of Kamui looking up legends about other Manaketes especially since reading about some girl who spent like, fucking centuries alone in the dark staring at the bones of a dude who tried to destroy humanity probably makes her feel a little bit better about the _stuck in a tower_ situation.
> 
> Anyway, tell me what you think? It’s a different tone than I usually write with, but I decided to roll with it.
> 
> Also Myrrh and Caer Pelyn and Saleh and the War of the Stones are all from FE8, just to clear up confusion! It’s all part of Sacred Stone’s canon.
> 
> I have a [tumblr](http://dominodebt.tumblr.com/) if you're into that kind of thing. You should send me requests there!


End file.
